


when the night descends

by freloux



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Multiple Orgasms, Older Man/Younger Woman, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freloux/pseuds/freloux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after 'time heist.' the doctor has his bossy/jealous boots on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the night descends

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days my penchant for writing erotica on the subway is going to get me into trouble.
> 
> This piece definitely works the "unhealthy Time Lord/Companion relationship" angle, so if you're not into that, look away.

She meets Danny at a restaurant, like they agreed. It feels like she's just going through the motions. The Doctor's little remark, where he just said "beat that for a date" like it was some kind of challenge, is still ringing in her ears. What on earth could be better than this: a nice, normal evening out?

Yet as Clara sits in the restaurant, feeling a little sleepy from the low lighting, she also reflects on how there are two versions of herself. One is nodding as the waiter runs through the menu again, and the other is back with the Doctor on the TARDIS, hurtling toward the next adventure.

Clara takes a half-hearted sip of her wine and realizes that it's always going to be like this. It's not fair. First she's angry at the Doctor, for giving her those two paths, and then she's angry at herself for choosing to walk down them. Anger gives way to frustration, which gives way to sadness, which finally morphs into the realization that she really, really has to leave. Right now. She's got to be alone.

She makes a show of checking her phone and says "My friend - he's, he's sick. I've got to run."

"If you don't want to go out with me, you could just say," Danny points out. He looks a bit hurt, which only makes Clara more angry at the Doctor and his stupid, stupid tricks. She can't ever just have her human life back, can she?

"No, it's not that, not at all - " Clara says. She knows that her words are empty, given that she's already putting on her coat. "I just - my friend. He's - we'll make other plans. Soon. I'm sorry."

On her way out, still blustering excuses, she texts Danny a frownie-face emoji and promises that she'll text him again to reschedule. Then she shuts off her phone because she's got to clear her head and just not be distracted right now.

As she walks, memories come floating to the surface against her will. She remembers the first time that she and the Doctor had sex. She remembers when she met Danny not long after that, and how she felt suspended in time, caught between those two relationships and what they offer her.

Clara sighs as she reaches home. She busies herself with locking the door behind her, taking off her coat, and heading up to her room. She's so absorbed with her thoughts that she barely registers it when she opens her bedroom door to find the Doctor idly fiddling with some tiny figurines on her shelf.

"Doctor!" she exclaims, shutting the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," he returns.

Her stomach twists, somewhere between sadness and curiosity. She knows that they're both just waiting for each other, in the end: her, for the call, and him for someone to share the adventure with.

"How was your date?" he asks as he turns away from her shelf to face her. Clara makes a noncommittal noise and he laughs. "Must not've been very good, then."

"No, you don't understand," Clara says, setting the rest of her things down by her desk and sighing again.

"Evidently I don't," the Doctor continues, sitting on her bed. "Tell me, Clara. What don't I understand. What was so incredible about your date that you had to leave early?"

"He wasn't - it wasn't - " The silent enough hangs at the end of her words. It wasn't the whole and spinning universe; it wasn't unexpected and exciting. At the same time, though, whenever she's with the Doctor, she's always wondering what if. What if her life really was different, if she wasn't his carer, wasn't -

The Doctor is here. In her room. On her bed. Suddenly it feels like she can have both at once: this alien possibility within the safety of her Coal Hill life.

"Show me," the Doctor says quietly.

She sits on his lap, then, thighs slotted on either side of his, and kisses him. When his tongue slides into her mouth, it's invasive. The idea of having him in her room is so foreign: her tiny bed, her neat and proper bookshelves, her human clothes with their lingering smell of her perfume...and here he is, a Time Lord with the pulse of time coursing through his veins.

Clara puts her hands on his hips and moves against him as they kiss. She can feel him getting hard under his trousers and reaches down to stroke him. The barest hint of movement in his mouth, the slightest increase in his breathing - he's got so much self-control it makes her frustrated. She glides her hand up and over him, tugs impatiently. "Oh you want that?" he asks, the rough burr of his voice caught between a tease and a groan. She blushes, heat crawling over her.

She's a little slick already and feels warm, full, as he cups a hand over her underwear and rubs evenly until the fabric between them is soaked. "You get wet for me so easily," he says, triumphant as he kisses her again. His lips are dry and firm against the plush wet of hers. He tastes like coffee and she wonders, briefly, what she tastes like to him, what the pressure of her fingertips feels like as she scrabbles them against his waistcoat.

As they help each other out of their clothes, Clara muses that it's a little like standing at the top of a high dive, about to jump. She's got that same low drop in her stomach with the knowledge that she's going to do this again. She and the Doctor are going to have sex again because that's part of it, part of the running, part of the adventure, and she can't have one without the other. Somehow she always comes rushing back to this, and he knows that. She hates herself for it, but loves how it feels too much to stop.

"Does it feel like this with that human boyfriend of yours?" he asks, unfairly psychic at a moment like this.

"It doesn't - we haven't - " she pants. He looks so possessive and she's out of her mind because she loves it when he gets like this, like she's the only one, like it's just the two of them and the whole drifting universe. He moves hard, then harder still as gasp after gasp goes tumbling out of her mouth. Clara shudders, hitting that cresting high as she spasms, feet pointed.

He holds her wrists, then, and kisses her deeply. Her mouth feels raw. She's sticky on the inside of her upper thighs but still feels aroused so strongly that it's halfway to pain. He moves a hand down onto her thigh to brace himself as he continues moving inside her. "Come for me again," he says.

Clara whimpers. "No - I can't - it's too much - " He thrusts up once more, insistent, and she moans when she feels it starting again, a slow build of pleasure that carries her clenching his entire length. "Good girl."

When it's over, she feels both his heartbeats thudding heavily in his chest, a sound that feels strong and steady and sure. It's a sound that's as close to the idea of a home as anything else she's ever heard or felt. Her own heart flutters like a tiny bird, unsure of where it wants to land.


End file.
